Talk of the devil, and Prisca appeared before my eyes! It had been only minutes since she called, but I had been too distracted—no, disconcerted was more to the point—to notice the passage of time. My butt was still firmly planted in my seat at LuckPot, and she was walking in like the Jezebel who … Continue reading Sin 17
It was with that conviction that I launched the next phase of the Prisca Programme. In my notes, I labelled it DEALING WITH THE SIREN, a label open to me alone. The subject was all attention when I announced the Prisca Programme. She listened, nodded in all the right places but mostly kept staring at … Continue reading Sin 11
It was unclear to me why I’d been defensive about Prisca to Jemima. Granted, I’d have done the same thing with any other case. Each student—each case—was different; each demanded the same level of confidentiality. Jemima had no business looking into my case files. She ought to have known better. In the three years we’d … Continue reading Sin 10
Rumbling thunder and pealing lightning killed hope of sleep for Prisca. She’d been awake, tossing in bed for the past two hours. It wasn’t raining outside. The lightning and thunder was the start of Peter White’s Stormfront. The entire track was composed to last only four minutes and nine seconds. A reworked version stretched for … Continue reading Sin 9
Nothing I couldn’t handle! That was my huge mistake. If I’d known what events would unfold after that afternoon, I’d never have uttered those fateful words. In doing that, I broke Murphy’s Law and dared the Fates. The noble gentleman and the sister Greek goddesses of destiny decided to do something about my smugness. Clotho … Continue reading Sin 4
I walked into the bookshop to check a title for a friend and ended up picking another for myself. It was a small book of just 88 pages coauthored by Michael MacDonald and Titus Ndiritu Kihara published in 2012 by The Paulines Africa. On the blurb of the book was written “What I Never Told … Continue reading What I Never Told You – A Review
Bayo snatched a glance at his watch, while keeping an eye on the chaos on the expressway in front in case some crazy driver decided to cut in front of him. 11.45! He inwardly groaned with dismay. There was no way he was going to be able to make it to Mrs. Popoola’s office on … Continue reading Any Amount
He walks up to you
Desolation painted on his face
As he tries to smile,
Hunger hugging at
His paunchy stomach,
His raiment in tatters,
Believing his squeegee
And soap can
Will squeeze a few Naira notes
Out of you.